The Baker
by jessylane318
Summary: One-shot. Non-Massacre. When you're given another shot at life, you take it and run. Me, well I baked. Civilian!OC x Shisui.


The Baker

Jessylane318

There's a sound of displaced air, a sudden gust of wind, and a shimmering mirage when he appears—all crooked smiles, curling black hair, and twinkling eyes. And not the slightest bit remorseful when I jump nearly three feet in surprise.

"Shisui-kun!"

The dark-haired shinobi laughs, his voice ringing brightly and his hands shoot out, wrapping the scarf that's fluttered loosely in the wind back around my neck. It's such an instantaneous thing I can do little more than huff and cross my arms, fighting in vain against the rising tide of joy.

"Sorry Yuki-chan," he says. He leans forward and kisses my nose on impulse. Despite the chill in the air, I flush in hot and red, my ears burning and exposed. "I just got back."

"And you decided to bother me?" I asked turning away quickly to hide the blush.

Of course, it's all an act, and he knows it. He's been away for weeks and it's been unbearably quiet without him—this crazy Uchiha.

"So cruel," he says leaning back. I can hear the crunch of snow as he slows himself to a crawling civilian pace and comes to stand at my side. "I've missed you!"

"I'm sure," I reply dryly. "What exotic land did you visit this time? Land of the noodles? The hot tubs? Don't think I don't know how those girls throw themselves at you. I hope you behaved!"

I send him a sidelong glance and he grins non-repentantly and shrugs as if of course they would. I can't help but giggle at the face and instead turn to scan the area. It isn't hard to find one, a scrawny civilian teen staring widely across the street. Yet another of his many, adoring fans. I make a show of pointing her out and she blushes crimson at being caught.

He chuckles, hooking my arm comfortably beneath his own. He's always like this after the long missions, _touchy_.

"Oh they do," he baits back, and I cast him a particularly sour glance. "But you'll always be my number one."

"Hah!" I bark, the sound is loud and crisp. It echoes down the street and attracts a few stares. We make a strange pair regardless. He's tall, dark, and handsome, and _clearly_ shinobi, dressed in his jounin vest and Uchiha fan. He's been feared throughout the lands since he was a pre-teen. And then there's me, short, blond, and definitely civilian. "I'm onto you Uchiha, I know you're just looking to get some free sweets!"

He laughs, pulls my hat down further to cover my ears, and escorts me through the streets.

"And if I want dinner instead?"

It's so smooth it takes me a moment to comprehend.

I nearly slip, and he doesn't even break stride. He slides sideways, his hip bumping into my own, and in a move that screams grace, he's pulled me forward and I barely stumble. His grin's the only evidence anything ever occurred.

Cocky bastard.

"You- That- What!?"

"Ah, Yuki-chan, what's wrong?" he asks tilting towards me. Humor twists at his face, and I grumble and scowl. I move to pull away and he lets me, for a moment, before his arms are around my shoulder, slipping down towards my waist. He pulls me back into his side. "Don't tell me you're flustered!"

His scent, pines and smoke, fill my nose making my entire face burn. I'm sure I'm about three shades from burgundy when he laughs outright.

How embarrassing!

"Ugh!" I crow, averting my eyes as I push him away. There's a whistle in the air, shrill and bird-like trilling from the rooftops. This time he lets me go and doesn't grab again. His eyes narrow in concentration and beneath his breath, I hear him swear. Flustered, I smooth out my clothes and offer a sharp look. "Don't joke about those things!"

Whatever coded message he's heard distracts him a moment longer. He returns slowly, blinking with large owl-ish eyes as if coming up from a trance. He turns towards me, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Wait, what?"

It's so rare to catch him off balance, being the genius that he is. I strike to my advantage and gain space, rolling my eyes, and shaking my head. I can't help the grin, and the slight rumble of excitement. He really is cute, it's no wonder all the girls chase after him. Cute, kind, friendly.

"Later Shisui-kun," I laugh, going ahead and snapping a little wave. He stuffs his hands in his pants and doesn't move, his head tilted to the side with a strange twisted look. I'm sure he's disappointed to have lost the punchline to that little joke. He gives a distracted wave and disappears an instant later. Back to ninja duty no doubt.

.

.

.

"You're so lucky," one of my employees whines dramatically. I roll my eyes, covering my hands with the mittens and dragging the fresh buns from the oven. A blast of heat hits my face and the delicious scent of warm, sweet bread perfumes the air. It wafts across the ceiling in thick waves and fogs the snow-lined windows.

I transfer the bread to a grate and shut the oven door.

"Really Ami," I chastise with a shake of my head. "He's just a boy, don't get so hung up!"

"He's a _man_ ," she replies hotly, and I can tell already she's been working up for this conversation all night. She bats her pretty, dark eyes towards me and kneads the dough with a little extra enthusiasm. "More than that, he's a ninja! They're, like, practically gods. How did _you_ catch his eye?"

"Seriously?" I ask darkly, raising a brow. "Jealous much?"

"I'm just saying," she harrumphs, and I know its part that and part worry for her favorite boss. She's only been here a few months, but she's a hard worker and a natural with the breads (more power to her, I have to _work_ to get bread to do right). "You don't wear makeup, you don't keep up with fashion. You can't fight, you didn't even go to the academy, how did ya'll even meet?"

"Not that it's any of your business," I chide, grabbing several cakes from the chill-blaster and setting them up on the stands. I take a moment to angle my bag filled with buttercream and begin to pipe, "but I met him when I was six. We've known each other for years."

"Wasn't that during the-"

" _None_ of your business," I interrupt, smiling to temper the warning. The icing pipes on smoothly and I smooth it with another plastic tool while spinning the turntable. I work fast, completing three cakes in only a few minutes. It refills the case of sweets momentarily. The weather does wonders for the business, and hot, fresh breads are always in high demand.

It helps that my shop sells completely unique recipes most of the nations have never heard of. It's one of the side-effects of being born with a head full of memories and recipes of a completely different world. Some of my creations, like apple pie, never really took off. But others, like my cheesecake, donuts, and cakes, well they have become quite the market niche.

"Fine," Ami sighs, inspecting the dough and adding a little flour. "Is that a berry cake? You know we're running low on the Danishes?"

"I know," I admit. Despite her success with the cooking, she hasn't quite got the head for business. At least, not yet. "But we'll be out of cakes as soon as that crowd out there comes by. The Danishes will take forty minutes to bake, the cakes take three to decorate and will substitute fairly decently." I put the last fancy spin on top and move them to the case. Returning to the freezer I pull out a tray of Danish I made late last night. They go straight in the oven and I set the timer.

"Watch the case," I instruct the girl, washing my hands and removing my apron. "I'm going to check on the customers."

"Sure," Ami replies, lining pans with thick, twisted loaves.

I survey the front of the store for a moment and smile.

 _My_ bakery stretches out in the tiny space lined with customers and a friendly clerk. The glass display is dazzling, the stands painted gold, the walls honey lined with warm wood, and the case a soft pink. Cookies of every flavor sit in little wicker baskets, cakes on delicate stands, loaves in their own cases, and tiny cake-pops arranged florally in the display.

"Good job Himari," I say to my cashier. She flushes with pleasure and I nod to the older man in line. "Matsuda-san, how are you today? Grabbing some sweets for your lovely wife? Or are those for you and Mari-chan?"

"You caught me, Yuki-chan!" he says brightly and offers a few bronze coins. I see a head full of brown pop around his legs and brace myself impact. The girl is adorable, and never disappoints.

"Yuki-san!" she yelps, and I grab her up in a hug, spinning her high. Matsuda-san laughs at her giggles. It's no real secret I love the children and have often been caught offering a free sugary sweet.

"Mari-chan, you're getting heavy! What have you been eating? Bricks!"

"No!" she shouts, and I return her to the floor. I laugh and talk to them a moment longer before moving on. The store is crowded, and it takes nearly twenty minutes to make my rounds. I can't help but grin when I return to the back.

Perhaps it's the perspective, but living out your dream is the greatest part of my second chance.

.

.

.

I close the shop at ten. The sky is dark, the stars twinkle brightly, and I stay an extra two hours to prepare for tomorrow. Ami calls me a work-a-holic, but she stands directly beside me prepping into the late hours of the night just the same.

With the consistent rise in customers and increasing demand for sweets, I'm considering promoting her to management and opening a new site. It's too early now, but I've got another few months to feel her out. So far, I'm reluctantly optimistic.

"Thank you for the help. If you want, you can come in late," I tell her at about midnight as she dons her coat, mittens, and hat. I wipe the counters and rinse out the sink. "Unless you're not busy, cause then you can come on time. I just don't want to overwork you—you might report me!"

"Slave driver!" she agrees and snacks on one of the cookies that didn't sell. I bag the old ones in plastic wrappers and sell them at a 20% discount in sets of 12. Ami had been happy to dispose of the extra three. "I'll see you at dawn."

I shrug and show her where I hide the spare keys.

The door clicks shut and then we're off, walking in opposite directions home on the lamp-lit streets.

With so many shinobi patrolling the rooftops, it's hard to feel scared. It helps that the Police often frequent my shop and I wave as they make themselves known.

"How unkind. You give them such warm greetings. Where's mine?"

The voice, his breath hot against my neck, makes me jump in surprise. And the police make no move to hide their laughter as they move away. Talk about cute flutters in their departure.

"Shisui-kun!" I snarl, my heart beating wildly in my chest, "I hate when you do that!"

He at least has the good sense to look sheepish.

"Ah, sorry Yuki-chan," he rubs his head. "Good day at work?"

Shaking my head, I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh.

"Yes," I say shortly. "You?"

"Eh, it was okay." He mumbles, and I glance over to see him turning a bit pink.

"Eh?" I ask. "Are you blushing? Oh, this has got to be good! I just saw you this afternoon, what could possibly have happened between then and now?"

He sputtered momentarily, and I lean in. And then yawn. Its jaw-popping and has me hurrying backward with the need to cover my mouth. I rock on my heels, rub my eyes, and glance his way. Shisui stares down with yet another strange look.

"What?"

"Tired?" he asks instead. He takes a step closer and I can smell him—he's all woods and campfire, the strong scent of pines overwhelming.

"Yeah," I admit with another yawn. "Works been busy. I'm thinking about opening another shop to keep up with demand, but I don't know if Ami can handle the extra workload. She's got potential, the work ethic, and talent for it, but it's a lot to expect."

Shisui is silent for a moment, studying me beneath his thick, dark lashes.

"You always see the potential, don't you?"

It's not exactly unexpected, but it's a topic we haven't broached in a while. A blonde little eleven-year-old walking unescorted through the Uchiha compound, head held high with a basketful of pastries. Not many can admit to demanding to see the clan head uninvited. Even less show up with a five-year business plan and a convenient opportunity to market a pro-Uchiha mindset.

After all, there's no need for a coup if a person feels respected and loved.

"No," I mumble and shiver as the wind whistles through my thick cotton coat. He pulls me close and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "I'm not perfect."

"Ah," he agrees and the topic drops. We walk in silence for a while, his warmth radiating comfortably.

"You know," I say sleepily after a moment, "I'm annoyed with you."

"Oh?"

I can tell I've broken his thoughts. He glances curiously to see where my often-wild train of thought has led me. I giggle at the look, reminded of the time I convinced him to take me tree-running. It might be the exhaustion, but his eyes seem to stare a little harder.

"I know I get special treatment," I tell him softly. "But your cousin came by the other day to tell me you were being teased about a girl. How come I haven't met her yet?"

He stills for a moment, missing a step, and I nearly fall. He blinks and stares.

"Itachi?"

"No," I laugh, trying to imagine Itachi gossiping about _anything_. "the other one, Sasuke, you know, the little emo one? I'm not entirely sure you three are all related."

He looks torn between laughing and cursing. He seems to settle for shaking his head instead.

"And he told you I was being teased about a girl?"

"Yeah," I replied, yawning again. "Was he wrong?"

"No," he laughed, blushing a little again. He tilts his head back so I stare up at his chin. "No, he's definitely not wrong."

"Oh?" I said. "Who's been teasing?"

"Besides Itachi?"

I spluttered. Quiet, never-talks Itachi? But then, he is Shisui's best friend… Maybe he gets another side? Trying to imagine a chattering Itachi makes my brain hurt.

"He teases? Wait, he speaks?" I tease instead.

"Relentlessly," Shisui says back and his face lights up in a way it only does for his dearest friend. I might've been jealous, but I'm well aware of their closeness. "But after that display this morning, he's not alone."

"Display?" I ask, frowning a little in concern. Is this about the whistles? "What happened this morning?"

"Oh you know, asked a girl out, took me a month to get up the courage, and not only did I get rejected, but she didn't even think I was serious!"

The story feels a little too similar to this morning, and I blink at him, trying to process his words.

"You… wait… what?"

"It was pretty embarrassing," he admits smiling ruefully one hand in his hair. "Worst of all, my old captain was on the rooftops a few feet away. Saw the whole thing. I'll never hear the end of it."

I don't know how to process the information. So I blink and keep walking. Shisui stares down curiously, and if I'm not mistaken, with a bit of hurt. For some reason, I can't help but feel like I've regressed back to my infant days when my brain felt more like candy floss than a working, thinking machine.

"It's all good though-"

"I'm sorry," I interrupt.

He stops talking and we make a turn. The familiar steps to my apartment are ahead and while I've never specifically invited him home, it doesn't surprise me he knows the way. Ninjas and their sneaky ways.

"Yuki, It's fine, I don't-"

"No," I interrupt again, shaking my head. "I must be more tired than I realized. But, are you-was that this morning supposed to be real?"

He's quiet for a moment, and then he stares, black eyes sharp and taking in my tired form. I blink up, my mouth dry when he nods, hesitantly again.

"Yes," he says after a moment. He leans forward, fingers twisting in the hair framing my face. He brushes it back in a caress. "I would very much like to have dinner with you."

"Oh."

I blink and stare.

"Usually," he says after a hesitation, "the answer's a yes or no."

I flush scarlet and turn away.

"Shisui!" I snarl in embarrassment. "I know that!"

He chuckles, twisting me back around.

"And?"

"But the clan-"

"Loves you and thinks you're some kind of pastry deity?"

"And you're a ninja-"

"So?"

"I can't fight," I reminded him, brows furrowing in concern. "I'm not an Uchiha, I don't have a dojutsu, or a clan name, or really anything that would add to your name!"

"Well, I was only asking for a date," he mumbles blinking. I flush, drop my chin, and whine. He sighs and drags it up again. "But if that's the problem, I'm famous enough. And it's kind of nice that you're a civilian, you know, I don't really have to worry about the donuts trying to do you in or you beating me at ninjutsu."

"I'll always beat you at pastry-making," I tell him firmly.

"Is that a yes?"

I duck my head and smile.

"I suppose so," I mumble embarrassed, elated, and exhausted all in one. I lean forward and bury my face in his warm jacket for a moment and breath in his the smell of campfire and pines. For a moment, there's nothing better, just him and the enveloping sense of peace.

But I've got an early shift and if we keep this up, I'll oversleep.

"Good night," I say instead stepping back into the cold.

He wraps my face a little tighter with my scarf, pulls my hat down low, and moves away, his own face covered in the biggest smile I've ever seen.

"G'night," he says as well, and with a wave, he's gone.


End file.
